Don't say that name!
by Hatsepsut
Summary: My entry for the Secret Santa exchange at the CDMA forum. For Zute, who asked for Teagan smut and bad things happening to Isolde. Need I say more?


**This is my entry for the Secret Santa fic exchange over at the CMDA forum. My secret recipient was Zute this time, and this is the list of preferences that..led to this little smutfic.**

**_DA Likes: DAO/Awakenings preference. Anders/F, Zevran/F, Cullen/F!Mage, Loghain/F, awkward first times, smut!, Seneshal Bran, Arishok, OC/AU, mages and templars, humor, romance, spankings (I am Zute, after all!), Teagan SMUT! A plausible explanation of why Eamon looks so damn old and Teagan doesn't. Bad things happening to Isolde._**

**Zute, I'm glad you enjoyed this!**

"So," the petite elf with the intricate tattoos on her face leaned back into her seat, the snarling hungry beast in her belly finally sated, "tell me, Bann Teagan..."

"Just Teagan, please, my Lady."

"Tell me then, Just Teagan," she cheekily drawled, "how come you and your brother look nothing alike? Are you much younger than he is?"

The ruggedly handsome bann of Rainesfere arched his eyebrow

at her and then smirked as he was raising his chalice to his lips.

"That, my lady, is a family secret. Plus, a gentleman never reveals such details about himself."

The elf pursed her lips in an obvious attempt not to laugh. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she daintily picked up her glass as well and took a sip, contemplating her next reply.

Such a delightful creature she is, Teagan mused as her attention was momentarily caught by her companions at the other end of the table; the scantily dressed mage and the bard, having a heated argument. So small, so petite, like a little porcelain doll, and yet so curvy and feminine for such a dainty looking lass. She looked like a pixie, with her huge crystalline blue eyes and her adorably pointed ears; her midnight black hair that cascaded down her back giving her fair skin an almost luminescent glow. And yet... he had never seen a fiercer fighter, a more deadly aim, a more competent soldier. She looked sweet and innocent, but twirl those blades, aim that bow, hell, open that mouth, and she was danger personified.

Such a tasty little morsel, could he be blamed for wanting to gobble her all up?

His attention was snapped back to her sweetly curving mouth, and he forced his mind to concentrate on her words, rather than those lush pink lips that were so inviting. _Control yourself, Teagan,_ he admonished himself. _The girl is just teasing. She has to be._

"Aye, my lord," she was waving her hand now, "forgive me. What was I thinking? A gentleman and a noble should never reveal their age and the color of their petticoats. I forgot."

Alistair snorted at her side, still munching on the various assorted cheeses on the platter he had hogged since the beginning of the evening, moaning and groaning in delight.

"Teagan is just a few years older than me, really," he mumbled, his mouth still stuffed with one of the many different varieties of cheese on the platter. "He was about 18 when I was sent to the Chantry."

"And you were...?"

Munch. Swallow. Bite again.

"Six."

"Ah, your current mental age... Your physical age is...?"

Alistair shot her an insulted look before swallowing once again.

"Twenty."

"So that makes our dear Just Teagan," she smiled at him like the cat that had just eaten the canary, "a mere thirty-three. Hardly an old man, if I may say so myself."

She leaned on her elbows in his direction and smiled prettily up to him.

"Blue?" she asked.

He shot her an amused and slightly puzzled look, enjoying her flirting immensely.

"Blue what, my lovely Warden?"

"Your petticoats, Just Teagan. Are they blue?"

He leaned in as well, and allowed his eyelids to droop suggestively and his voice to get a bit hoarser.

"You will just have to find out for yourself, Warden," he taunted her and watched with secret thrill how her eyes twinkled with mischief at the challenge.

"Any time, Just Teagan," she all but purred his name.

"Don't tempt her, Teagan," Alistair waved a piece of hard cheese in his direction. "She once had her mabari raid my tent to... ugh... confiscate my smalls because I wouldn't tell her what color they were... I happened to be wearing them at the time, and it was _not_ a pleasant experience."

Teagan leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Are you an undergarment color collector, Warden, or is it a particular... fetish of yours?"

"I am just curious." She smiled sweetly. "Since you won't tell me why it is you look like you do," and she waved her hand at him, indicating with a lewd look on her face that she appreciated the view, "and your brother looks like your father, I have to have my curiosity... satisfied," she purred, sending a hot arrow of desire streaming down to his groin with the way her eyes trailed over him.

Teagan decided to take the plunge.

"It's the incessant sex," he said. "It keeps me young."

She wasn't fazed. Not in the least. As in not at all. She just smiled even more provocatively at him, while Alistair spluttered and coughed.

Teagan noticed with a jolt that she moved a little bit closer to him and that her foot, underneath the heavy tablecloth, came to rest against his calf.

"Oh, _do tell_, Just Teagan," she all but moaned, sending another bolt of desire streaming down his spine.

Damn. His breeches were getting uncomfortable.

"And here I thought that you and I could have a nice, quiet evening together," Alistair said to the cheese platter, "especially with that pesky pervert assassin out of commission as he is."

"By all means, Alibear dear, take that lovely platter of yours up to your room and cozy up to it in front of the fire," the Warden murmured, not even looking at him.

Alistair sighed at the hot, lustful looks his 'sister' was sending his uncle. _Ugh, wrong image that_, he shuddered. He shot the platter another longing look and, realizing that nobody was paying any attention to him anyway, he grabbed the plate, along with a bottle of wine and a glass, and got up.

"If you will excuse me," he bowed, "this lovely Camembert is just begging to be swooped down on. I will retire to my room in its lovely company," he smiled at the way Leila, the petite elven Warden, was leaning towards Teagan, and his enthralled, lustful look. He shook his head again. Once, he would have blushed and averted his eyes, but being around her and that damned perverted assassin day in, day out had managed to cure him of the habit. Those two practically breathed sexual innuendos, they didn't just speak them.

Teagan raised his eyes to briefly acknowledge Alistair and, with a startled jolt, noticed they had been left all alone in the great hall. He looked back to her, to the way her eyes seemed to be focused on his mouth and his breath caught as that dainty foot of hers trailed higher on his calf. His gaze zeroed on her pretty pink mouth as her lithe little tongue briefly darted out to wet suddenly dry lips and he could not help himself; he was leaning in to see if those lips tasted as sweet as they looked when a voice interrupted them, with all the loveliness of sharp fingernails grating against a chalkboard.

"Teeeegaaannn," Isolde's nasal drawl echoed from outside the room. "Azzzze you in zerrreee, Teagaaannn?"

"Shit!" he hissed, and hurriedly pulled back and tried to compose himself.

"Close. It's Isolde," the Warden replied, and Teagan had to bite his cheek to stifle a little laugh.

"We can make a run for it," he hopefully suggested.

"Or hide under the table," she countered and, quick as lightning, she followed her own suggestion and slipped under the table. The heavy tablecloth that was dragging down to the floor concealed her perfectly but, before he had time for his mind, that was screaming at him to follow her, to send the command to the rest of his body, Isolde rounded the corner and entered the huge dining hall.

"Oh, zear you are, Teaagann," she sighed, her customary scowl turning into a warm smile, well, as warm as a woman like Isolde could manage anyhow. "What azee you doing here all alone, Teagan?" She approached him and sat heavily on the empty seat that his delectable little Warden had just vacated. "Whezzzee izz that horrid elf, zeee Warden?"

"Now, Isolde, is that a way to talk about the woman that practically saved us all, including your son?" Teagan scolded her, deeply annoyed with her as always, at her shallowness and selfishness.

She huffed. "It wazzz her job, Teagaaan," she regally replied.

"Hardly," he drawled sarcastically and brought the cup to his mouth. Just then, though, he felt a pair of hands push his knees apart, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, as those hands started fiddling with the laces of his breeches.

"Zzzomething wrong, Teagaannn?" Isolde asked.

"Nothing..." he managed, his fists curling around his cup, while his breeches were pushed aside and a hot little hand, with dainty little fingers, delved into his smalls to retrieve a shaft that had risen to the occasion so fast that his head had been left reeling. "The wine... got down the wrong pipe. That's all."

He did his very best to try and control his breathing, taking deep, measured breaths through his nose, trying desperately to hold on to his sanity as that little hand started pumping his shaft up and down. It was hard. Well, yes, his shaft, too, but holding on was harder. The fact that he had to listen to Isolde's annoying prattle while the hottest woman he had ever seen was busy pumping him for all he was worth under the table was doubly frustrating, and he suddenly had the desire to just grab Isolde by the neck and slam her head down on the table until she blanked out. Then, he would be able to pull that absolutely sinful piece of elven ass out from under the table and fuck her till she couldn't walk straight.

The images that assaulted his brain at that thought made him almost dizzy with desire and he moaned quietly into his cup, making Isolde next to him pause her chatter again and ask him once more if he was okay.

_Just fine_, he thought. _Now if you could please go away before... Oh, Maker! Was that her breath? Is she going to...?_

"Shouldn't you..." Oh, sweet Andraste, he was going to lose it. "Shouldn't you...ugh... go check up on... Connor?" he stammered, congratulating himself with his ability to remember the boy's name as a lithe little tongue sensually licked him from root to tip. He gripped his glass even tighter, praying that the annoying woman next to him would just disappear. Maker, he was going to stick his butter knife into her throat if she didn't leave soon. The hot little tongue under the table flicked against the tiny slit on the tip of his member, and he nearly blanked out at the pleasure.

"Azze zoou okay, Teeagan?"

_Oh, Maker, Maker, Maker. I haven't asked for anything much lately. Can you just make the damned idiot drop dead or something?_

"Isolde," he ground out. "Go. Check. On. Your. Son."

She shot him a rather piqued look and shot to her feet, sneering in contempt.

"You 'ave been zzzpending too much time with zzzzezzze howwid Wardens, Teeagan..." she whined, but he paid her no heed, just concentrated hard on not thrusting his hips upward to make the little mouth that was again trailing hot kisses and licks up and down his shaft take him in further.

The Warden lifted the table cloth and peeked at him as soon as Isolde's retreating footsteps had stopped echoing down the corridor. Teagan dared sneak a look downwards and a moan slipped past his lips at the sight of her flushed cheeks and heavy lidded eyes.

"If you have ever stuck this thing in that woman, tell me now, before I put it in my mouth." She smiled cheekily and all he could do, all the blood in his veins streaming south at the promise in her voice, was shake his head negatively.

Then, all thought process was scrambled by the flash of pleasure that erupted behind his eyes as those pink smiling lips drew him in. He threw his head back with a groan vibrating his chest, at the amazing heat and wetness of her mouth, and just gave in.

She took her sweet time about it, swirling and twirling that talented tongue of hers until he had been reduced to a whimpering, incoherent pile of goo; his hands clenching the armrests until his fingers had turned white. Anyone passing outside the great dining hall could easily hear the needy, desperate sounds that had escaped his mouth as she had taken him impossibly deep, making his blood roar in his ears, his vision turn to bright white, his body spasm like it was being shot with lightning.

When he came, roaring her name to the ceiling, his neck corded, his breath ragged and panting, she had just lapped up his seed like a kitten does her favorite bowl of cream, purring at his taste. He collapsed on the chair, his body bathed in sweat and still trembling like a stallion, trying to regain his breath and sanity; pleasure was still whipping him, short-circuiting his nerve endings, making coherent speech an impossible task.

So, when she suggested moving to her bedchamber, the only reply he managed was to growl. His shaft instantly hardened again and he grabbed the dainty little elf in his arms, pulling her against him and holding himself steady with his hands on the lush curves of her delectable behind. She just laughed, wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her face into his neck, sighing contentedly.

* * *

The trip to her room hadn't been uneventful, not by far.

The first obstacle was how to navigate doors with her wrapped up around him like a vine. Or stairs, when she started gyrating those slim hips of hers against his groin, making his already semi-hard shaft roar back to attention. Or, when she raised her head to give him a heated look before her lips landed on his and they shared their first kiss, making his knees almost buckle.

He put a hand out to support himself on the nearest wall and lost himself in her taste; the velvety sensation of her soft, moist mouth drawing his tongue in; the soft gasp that escaped her. He groaned, he couldn't help himself; she was so sweet, her taste so addictive. Her pink, little, talented tongue slid so seductively against his, and her mewling moans and gasps were making his blood heat and bubble in his veins.

He slammed her against the nearest wall and took his time exploring her lips, her mouth; his hands roaming against her flesh to squeeze a breast, then pet a pert behind and trail down a creamy thigh.

"We need a bed," he moaned against her neck, nipping and licking the creamy flesh that she had revealed by throwing her head back to give him access.

"And privacy." She giggled and motioned behind him, where a guard was standing at attention, trying very hard to seem as if he was not paying attention to what was happening in front of his eyes.

Teagan looked around him, shocked to realize that he had managed to make it to the family's living quarters and that his room was just across the hallway. He became aware with a jolt that his breeches were hanging open, that his erection would be very visible if she wasn't wrapped around him like a limpet, and blushed; a deep, furious red that just made her laugh harder.

Blight take him. He had made it this far. He wasn't going to let a little embarrassment stop him from trying this alluring creature on for size.

"You," he growled to the guard, while at the same time picking her up again and holding her tightly to him, "open that door. And wipe that smirk off your face."

The guard scrabbled to obey both orders, and Teagan flew past him, while the woman in his arms giggled and squirmed against him, making his already noticeable erection even worse.

Just as he was preparing to kick the door shut behind him with a booted foot, though, he heard a shocked gasp behind him that froze him in place. The Warden wiggled her fingers to someone behind his back with a positively evil look on her face and Teagan, feeling like doom was descending upon him, slowly turned around to see none other than Isolde, her eyes wide and her hand clasped over her mouth, drawing a deep breath, no doubt to screech in shock and dismay.

He slammed the door, but her voice carried.

"TEEEEGAANNN!"

* * *

Damn. Damn, damn, triple damn. As if getting caught in the act by Isolde wasn't detrimental enough to the size and rigidity of his... little general, the blasted elf hadn't stopped giggling for a minute. It was making his male ego shrink, among other things.

He dropped the elf on his bed, and bent down to remove his boots, wondering darkly if the mood was completely destroyed.

Just then a pair of hands wove around his waist from behind, and a pair of pert breasts molded against his back; her breath fanned his ear and his arousal started returning.

"It is not funny," he murmured darkly as another giggle escaped her, and moaned when her sneaky little tongue traced the rim of his ear, making gooseflesh appear all over his skin.

"Sure it is," she snickered. "Teeegannn," she imitated Isolde's speech, "what azzzee you doing to zattt elf, Teeeegannn?"

"Oh, fabulous," he looked at his member that instantly started shriveling again. "Why don't you throw a bucketful of cold water on it as well?"

She looked down over his shoulder, and then a hand sneaked down to his groin to wrap around his shaft and pump him gently up to attention.

"Don't worry, my dear bann." She licked up the side of his neck. "That can be easily taken care of."

He growled low in his throat before turning around with a speed that surprised her and pinned her against the bed.

"You are absolutely devious, my Lady," he murmured, his eyes roaming over her petite form, assessing the buckles and fastening of her armor. A hand cupped her breast over the supple leather and she caught her breath, the teasing smile fading to be replaced by hot, smoldering desire.

"I have been a bad, bad girl, I admit," she breathed, arching into his touch. "What will you do about it?"

He contemplated for a moment, before an absolutely predatory look crossed his eyes; within seconds, she was turned on her back, raised on her hands and knees and the short skirt of her armor was thrust up to pool around her waist. A hand landed on her ass, hard, filling the room with a resounding slapping crack, to be followed by one more and then another; the sounds mixing with her squeals, shrieks and little excited gasps.

When he could take the excitement no longer and her pert ass had turned a pretty pink, he took himself in hand and aimed at the glistening portal to her womanhood, not bothering with clothes; the need to slide inside her was imperative, leaving no room for other thoughts. Maker, he had to have her now, right fucking now, and he took her with a deep, brutal plunge, forcing her tight depths to accept him. She shrieked and screamed and then went wild, thrusting back at him, urging him to go faster and then faster still. _Harder_, and _yes_, _Teagan, more, damn you_ _Teagan give me more, fuck me harder_.

He felt his release coiling in his belly, spiraling down his spine and desperation gripped him. _Damn it, not yet, not yet. I want more, more, more_.

He groaned, holding still, trying desperately to hold on to his control and she seemed to realize his predicament because she turned back to him over her shoulder and smiled.

"Isolde," she giggled. "Isolde naked."

That did the trick. His aching, pulsing erection instantly softened somewhat, his imminent release pushed back, and he groaned in frustration, then chuckled.

"Handy trick." He started thrusting again, grateful that she had found a way to keep him from ruining the best night of his life by coming too soon.

It was a trick she used many times that night, until he was begging her to let him come, until she was sore and nearly incoherent with the continuous orgasms that had rolled through her body.

He was sure Isolde heard them both scream when he finally came, filling her little body to the brim with his seed, and her blacking out with the force of her final, shattering orgasm.

* * *

"So, Alistair..." the Warden addressed her companion over breakfast the next morning, a breakfast where Lady Isolde shone by her absence, "how was your night?"

"Cheesy." He smiled happily at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes, her haggard but completely contented appearance. "I will regret asking, I know," he smiled sheepishly, "but how was yours?"

A wicked smile lit up her face.

"Just like yours, Ali baby."

A raised eyebrow silently invited her to elaborate.

"It was like your favorite cheese: hard, tasty and so, so filling," she purred.

"See? I told you, cheese is the best thing in the wide... oh... Ermmm... You're not talking about eating cheese are you?" A blush bloomed on Alistair's face.

"No. Not talking about cheese."

He sighed.

"Will someone with a bar of soap please wash these images from my mind?" he whined before burying his head between his hands.

She smiled. "And you thought I couldn't make you blush anymore."

He groaned in response and then buried his head even further down.

"That's IT! I'm switching to yogurt."

_The end._


End file.
